The Blessed Realm
by Nimloth
Summary: My version of what happened after Legolas and Gimli left Middleearth... and a continuation of The Last of the Fellowship, reintroducing certain characters you may have read about in Not Through Lack of Watchfulness.
1. I Alqualonde

**I Alqualondë**

"Legolas? Legolas, can you see those creatures? What are they?" Gimli was straining to see above the railing of the Elven ship as it glided smoothly through the tranquil waters of the deep blue sea. "There! There they are again!"

The white-bearded dwarf pointed to the shimmering, silvery shapes that broke the gentle wavesin slow, elegant movements, performing a playful dance in the clear water. Every now and then, the curve of a glistening fin caught the sunlight, and the spectators had to shield their eyes from the bright reflection.

Legolas, who stood a little higher, on the upper deck of the grey ship, smiled fondly at the dwarf's excitement. But he, too, was enchanted by the beauty of the moment. A faint music caught his ears, a joyful song, somewhere far, far away. Some of his companions must have heard it, too, for they raised their clear voices in reply, chanting a soft melody.

"Those are the Silwing, Master Dwarf."

Fingalas's voice broke the spell. Gimli turned to the tall, green-eyed Elf who had come up next to him.

"What are they?"

"Their name means 'silver spray' in the speech of men," Fingalas replied. "They have come to welcome us to the Undying Lands." Gimli's eyes widened in surprise. "Do you mean to say that we have reached our destination?"

Fingalas laughed, but it was a good-natured laugh. "We passed Tol Eressëa yester eve, Master Gimli," he replied. "Did you not see the Lonely Isle in the light of the setting sun? It was a sight to behold!"

The dwarf turned back to peer out across the blue waters. "Well, you may have seen it, but I am an old dwarf and not equipped with your Elvish far-sightedness," he grumbled.

Legolas skipped down the steps from the upper deck and lightly rested a hand on his stout friend's shoulder. "Don't let my ill-behaved brother tease you, friend Gimli", he said, casting an admonishing look at the other Elf. "You should know him better than that by now. Look!" He pointed westward. "Can you see the thin line at the horizon? That is the coast of Aman. Soon we shall enter the Bay of Eldamar."

The old dwarf shielded his eyes with a gnarled hand and peered ahead. "Yes… yes, now I can see it!" He slowly lowered his hand again. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he spoke. "Master Elf, I have dreamed of this moment for many a week, ever since you and I set out from Aglarond. Yet now that the fulfilment of my happiest dream is within reach, I, Gimli son of Glóin, feel doubt, and fear, as I have not felt it in all the battles when we faced orcs and far more evil creatures together."

Legolas looked down at his friend for a long moment before he replied. "You knew there would be no way back, and I have always marvelled at your courage. For me and my kindred, this journey is a coming home, but for you… I truly cannot begin to imagine what this must be like for you."

Gimli did not reply. Legolas turned to the other Elf, and for once the mischief in his brother's eyes seemed subdued. Fingalas bowed his head and stepped back noiselessly, leaving the two friends alone as they looked out across the sea in silence.

The grey boat carried its passengers swiftly closer towards the dark mass of land, and soon even Gimli could make out the Pelóri, the impressive mountain range rising beyond the northern shores of Aman. The dwarf let out a deep sigh and mumbled something in the dark, strange language of his people. To Legolas's ears, it sounded like a prayer; but the Elf did not ask, and Gimli did not offer an explanation.

Suddenly, the rustling of mighty wings made the two companions look up. A great, silver-grey seagull swooped down from the cloudless sky and settled on the railing, looking from Legolas to Gimli and back to the Elf, its head cocked to one side. Legolas's eyes shone.

"Mae govannen, mellon bain. Man siniath?" (1)

Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, but to Gimli it seemed that the big bird actually winked at them. Then it opened its beak and let out an unexpected sound – it wasn't birdlike at all, but more like the pealing laughter of a young child. The dwarf started, taken aback; but even more to his surprise, Legolas answered with a low chuckle and turned to call out to Fingalas.

"Lasto, gwanur! (2) In these blessed realms, even the speech of the birds is of a courtesy yet to be matched!"

"What…" Gimli cast a suspicious look at his friend, not sure if Legolas had joined Fingalas in a charade put on to befuddle a weary dwarf. But then he recalled the gift of all Elves with animals. They seemed to have a mysterious connection with all beasts, great and small. With a shudder, Gimli recalled the time Legolas had guided Arod along the Paths of the Dead, calming the terrified horse with only a few whispered words and a touch of his hand, when he, Gimli the proud warrior, had been reduced to crawling on all fours in an attempt to escape the dread of those shadows. The dwarf shook his head. Probably Legolas had really understood everything that had been told in this strange bird's laughter.

Strange. Yes, just about everything that had come to pass on this journey had been strange, sometimes almost unreal. Gimli couldn't even tell whether it was days or weeks since they had set sail from the port of Pelargir on a misty morning at the break of winter. Winter it had been in Middle-earth, and rough were the seas they had travelled at the beginning, yet here it was sunny and warm; there was a feeling of early summer in the air. But surely they had not travelled for months…?

And then, the unimaginable adventure of the voyage along the Straight Road! Gimli could not tell how long they had been travelling towards the West, but he would never forget the sensation of that very early morning when all of a sudden a mighty tremor went through the entire ship, and everybody rushed on deck to see what was happening. As if on gigantic wings, their vessel had lifted out of the grey waters, and another vibration, slighter than the first, had shaken the ship and all on board. Gimli had felt very uneasy, and despite his mistrust of the sea he had wished they were back in the heaving waves, rather than flying through the air.

Legolas, always sensitive to the dwarf's misgivings about this sea voyage, had come to his side to comfort his friend. "Behold, Gimli. We are leaving the Bent World. Soon, the journey will be a smooth one." And indeed, before long the Elven boat seemed to glide on rails running along an invisible bridge. So smooth was the ride that Gimli hadn't even noticed when their ship settled into the serene waters of Belegaer, the Great Sea of the West, having left behind forever the realm of Middle-earth.

Gimli shook his head in confusion.

"What is it, Master Dwarf?" Legolas's voice brought the dwarf back from his puzzled musings. Gimli glanced up at the Elf, then stepped back from the railing and with a slight grunt lowered himself onto the lowest step of the stairs to the upper deck.

"I don't know, Legolas," he answered. "I don't know if I belong here, with you, with the Elves, in this strange world." Legolas leant against the railing, crossed his arms and studied the dwarf's lined face. When he spoke, his voice was filled with love and compassion.

"I am immensely glad to have to here by my side, Gimli. The Blessed Realm would not be the same for me without you." Legolas paused, and the shadow of a memory passed across his fair face. "But I understand what you say about doubting choices. I have witnessed the pain a choice can cause, and I pray to Ilúvatar that you will not regret yours." He smiled. "I do not think you will, friend Gimli."

Gimli looked up at Legolas. As so many times before, he wondered about the bond that had formed between them, despite all the initial misgivings, the ancient antagonism between their races, not to mention their more than disparate appearance – the tall, lithe Elf, whose ageless beauty never seemed to diminish, and the heavy-set, gnarled figure of the dwarf, bent and white-haired with age. Thinking back to the beginning of their friendship, Gimli recalled Lothlórien and the first time he had beheld the Lady Galadriel, fairest of all beings that had ever walked on Middle-earth, save perhaps for her granddaughter Arwen Undómiel. An involuntary sigh escaped the old dwarf's lips, and his hand reached for the small parcel he carried folded up underneath his jerkin.

Legolas saw the gesture, and his smile widened. He knew what his friend carried close to his heart, and his own thoughts turned to the words of the Lady of the Golden Woods, spoken to him alone, after the Fellowship had reached Lothlórien in search of a brief respite from their desperate errand in dark times.

_I know well the grudge that all of our kindred, and in particular your father Thranduil, bear against the race that Aulë called forth – and with good reason, some may say. But I beseech you, Legolas, to look past old grievances, for indeed you yourself have not suffered any. You are given the chance to heal an old breach, and this task is more important than you may conceive at the moment._

Indeed, though it was with a fair amount of reluctance that he had bowed to the Lady's request, Legolas had discovered to his surprise that beneath the dwarf's gruff exterior, there was a gentle soul that cherished beauty as much as any Elf, and at the same time displayed a fierce loyalty to his chosen cause. What had started out as an exercise of duty soon turned into animated conversations, with much good-natured grumbling on the dwarf's part, and much laughter on the part of the Elf. But even more than these cheerful discussions, it was the times of silent contemplation of the task ahead that had brought the two unlikely companions together. Even now, after well over a hundred years, Legolas could not say exactly what it was that had welded their souls together; but he knew for certain that it was so, and it was good.

Suddenly, both Elf and dwarf were woken from their separate reveries by a shout from the sailor in the lookout.

"Alqualondë!"

Legolas swiftly skipped past Gimli's stout frame and up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. The great seagull, which had remained sitting next to the Elf all this time, flapped its wings and rose into the air to join its companions, flocks of beautiful birds circling above the travellers. Much more slowly, the dwarf heaved up his stout frame and followed Legolas onto the upper deck. From this vantage point, he strained to see what had excited his friend so much.

Just discernible to his eyes now, the distant land reached out into the sea to form a protected bay. Gimli watched the shore drawing nearer swiftly as the ship from Middle-earth flew across the waves, eager to cover the last half-league that separated it from its destination. Soon, they were within a stone's throw of the nearest outcrop of land.

Legolas called out to the helmsman. Gimli did not catch the words or their meaning, but instantly, the grey boat slowed its approach and swung by. The dwarf's eyes lit up as he took in the great gate of Alqualondë, the Haven of Swans. A mighty arch of living rock, sea-carved and sparkling as if set with precious stones,it curved high above their vessel as it entered the harbour's turquoise waters. The weary travellers gazed in wonder at the marvellous sight that greeted them.

Tall rose the masts of the ships that lay alongside the piers, rocking gentlyin the calm waters, their white sails flapping in the soft breeze. They were made entirely of white timber, a tribute to those vessels in the likeness of swans that had been destroyed by Fëanor in his wrath. Although they did not match the beauty of the ships the Teleri had built in ancient times under the guidance of the Lords of the Sea, the ships in the haven of Alqualondë displayed a brilliant craftsmanship which made the small grey boat from Middle-earth seem dull and plain in comparison.

Gimli saw many Elven mariners busying themselves on deck or up in the rigging. When they caught sight of the grey ship, they paused in their tasks and raised their hands in a cheerful salute. The dwarf cast a questioning glance at Legolas, but for once his friend had no attention to spare. His eyes were fixed on the great swans that came gliding towards their ship. Much larger they were than the swans Gimli had seen on the river Anduin on his frequent visits to Minas Tirith; their feathers were of a dazzling white, their beaks shone a pearly rose-colour, and their bearing was of graceful pride. And lo! Half-hidden amongst the huge wings, Gimli saw small figures riding on the backs of the majestic birds, waving at the approaching ship.

"Legolas? Are those…?"

There was no reply to the dwarf's unfinished question. Gimli looked up at his tall friend and was taken aback to see tears running down Legolas's cheeks.

"A, Ilúvatar!" the Elf whispered. "Hîn…" (3)

(1) Mae govannen, mellon bain. Man siniath? Well met, beautiful friend. What news?

(2) Lasto, gwanur Listen, brother

(3) Hîn children


	2. II Well met

**II Well met **

Gimli turned his gaze back to the swans and their little riders, two, even three at a time, straddling the broad backs of the regal birds. Clear high voices carried across the water, and although the dwarf did not understand the words that were shouted, he felt the warmth of their welcome.

The beauty of those shining faces, framed by dark hair or fair, peeking out from behind the white plumage, would have been enough to move anyone's heart. Nonetheless, Gimli was puzzled by his friend's tears. During their long friendship, the dwarf had seen happiness and grief, mischief and annoyance, even cold wrath in the Elf's face. But never in all those years, not even at the passing of King Elessar and his Queen, had Legolas shown his emotions so openly. Feeling a bit helpless, Gimli tried to think of a way to comfort him.

"Legolas? Are you alright?"

Legolas turned to look at his friend. He raised a hand and touched his fingers to his cheek; he seemed surprised to feel the moisture. Then a slow smile broke through his tears.

"Yes, friend Gimli," he replied. "I see Elf children again for the first time in millennia, and it gladdens my heart." His smile turned into a chuckle, and the chuckle into laughter. Then, all of a sudden, he leapt up onto the railing and ran along the narrow beam towards the ship's bowsprit as securely as if it were a wide road, all the time laughing and waving at the children.

"Well, you don't exactly behave like you've been around for millennia," Gimli grumbled, shaking his head at his friend's folly; but Legolas's laughter was infectious, and the dwarf couldn't help but join in. Soon, everybody on board the grey ship had laughter or a song on their lips as they went about the task of bringing the boat safely to its mooring place.

Gimli went over to the starboard side to stand beside Legolas and Fingalas as the sailors cast the docking lines to the Elves awaiting them on the pier. By this time, a small crowd had assembled, and a growing number of Elf children were dismounting their feathered steeds and scampering up the rope ladders that hung down from the rocky pier. A little distance away, the travellers saw a city shimmering white in the bright sunlight; but the level ground and the gathering crowd permitted only occasional glimpses of the buildings.

As the dwarf took in the fair folk on the piers – some dressed in flowing robes and cloaks, but most in loose tunics and breeches of soft, shimmering colours – he felt very much out of place. This feeling only increased when he looked up at the two tall Elves at his side, so much alike each other in their looks, and in their eagerness to leave the ship and join theirs kinsmen.

"Aman, gwanur. Na vedui," Fingalas said, gripping his brother's arm. Legolas nodded. "Yes, brother. At last." Fingalas cast a quick look at the stout figure planted squarely next to them before he spoke again, keeping his voice low.

"Adar ista o hadhod?_"_ There was a moment's hesitation before Legolas replied, and his expression darkened almost imperceptibly. "Hon ista." (1)

He turned abruptly and walked away, towards the gangway that was now being lowered to the piers. "Come, friend Gimli," he called over his shoulder. "I know you must be impatient to feel firm ground under your clumsy feet again!"

Fingalas watched as the old dwarf followed Legolas. He was not fooled by his brother's joking; he knew that their father's disapproval of his friendship with Gimli weighed heavy on Legolas's heart. Much as he looked forward to being reunited with his kinsfolk and old friends from Eryn Lasgalen, Fingalas could not shake a feeling of unease when he thought of the meeting that lay ahead. Thranduil and Gimli had met only twice before, once at the wedding of King Elessar and Arwen Undómiel, and once more, when both Gimli and the Elven king paid a visit to the Elven colony in South Ithilien during the same time. On both occasions, the stiff courtesy Thranduil had displayed towards the dwarf could barely conceal his resentment. Gimli had ignored this ill-graced behaviour with the stoicism characteristic of his race, but Fingalas, who knew his brother better than most, had seen how Legolas suffered under his father's latent hostility towards the dwarf.

With an effort, Fingalas shook off such sombre thoughts. Now was not the time for brooding, but for rejoicing. "Legolas – dartho!" (2) He ran to catch up with Legolas and Gimli, who had just reached the gangway. Together, the two Elves and the dwarf walked down the broad wooden plank.

Curious faces and shouts of welcome greeted them, mostly in Quenya, but there were snippets of Sindarin dialects to be heard as well – apparently some of the spectators were Elves from Middle-earth who had made the journey to Aman before them. Legolas and Fingalas had to strain to understand everything; for although at their father's court, they had both been taught the tongue of the High Elves, they had never considered themselves anything better than their Silvan people, and accordingly had always spoken mostly Silvan, or Sindarin, and Quenya very little, if at all.

They reached the end of the gangway and halted. The two Elves regarded each other; suddenly Fingalas grinned. "You were the first on Middle-earth, Legolas. Let me be the first now!" Legolas laughed. "If it pleases you, little brother – go ahead," he replied. Fingalas stepped lightly off the wooden plank and onto the pier, then turned and bowed to Gimli with an exaggerated flourish. "Welcome to the Blessed Realm, Master Dwarf!"

Gimli hesitated for a moment. But then he felt Legolas's reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Come, my friend. Let us go together." A hush came over the crowd as the dwarf set a heavy boot on the ground, then another, followed immediately by the soft step of Legolas's light shoe. Most of the faces surrounding them mirrored polite curiosity, and some of the children poked each other in the side or hid soft giggles behind small hands; but here and there, Legolas saw less than friendly eyes as they took in the stout, grey-bearded figure.

He suppressed a sigh and was just about to turn to his sailors to give the order to disembark, whena murmur ran through the crowd, and it parted to admit a very tall Elf. He was clad in robes the colour of the sea, folds of blue and green that imitated the movement of waves as he walked. His hair was of such light blond that it almost seemed white, and an extraordinary light illuminated his face. There could be no doubt that here was one of stature among the Calaquendi. Perched on one arm, he carried the great seagull that had greeted the travellers a little earlier.

Legolas and Fingalas touched their hands to their hearts and bowed their heads. Gimli hurried to copy their respectful gesture, for he, too, was struck by the sense of power that radiated from this High Elf.

A soft chuckle made the three travellers look up. To their surprise, a broad smile had spread across the face of the tall Elf, changing the expression of venerable wisdom into one of youthful mirth as he addressed them in the Westron tongue.

"Well, well. So many ages have passed, and yet the wonders never cease. Welcome, Gimli, Lord of the hadhodhrim." (3) He inclined his head slightly towards Legolas and Fingalas. "Mae govannen, ernillath nîn. (4) I am Turlond, Master of the Haven of Alqualondë, and I bid you a very fond welcome." Legolas bowed his head again, returning the courteous greeting. "Hennaid, hîr nîn. We are honoured to be received with such warmth, and respect." Turlond's eyes twinkled. "I hear you, Legolas Greenleaf. Know that even here in Aman, we tell the tale of the Fellowship and its deeds to our children. Any of the Nine Walkers deserves all my respect, and the respect of all races. – Ah!"

His sudden exclamation startled everyone. The seagull had swung itself up from Turlond's arm and, with a lazy flap of its mighty wings, settled on Legolas's shoulder instead. The harbourmaster laughed. "I see you have already won a friend, and I seem to have lost my messenger." The big bird started nibbling the collar of Legolas's tunic. "Never mind. My robes were beginning to suffer from his displays of affection, anyway. But come! The Lady Galadriel and the Lords Celeborn and Elrond have come down from Teldamar and await you at the house of Lord Olwë. I will lead you to them."

During this conversation, more of the Elves from Middle-earth had come down the gangway, wonder and excitement on their faces; some were already engaged in animated exchanges. Seeing that his sailors would be well taken care of, Legolas turned to follow Turlond. As he, Fingalas and Gimli made their way along the broad white street that led towards the city, the dwarf spoke for the first time since he had set foot upon the soil of the Undying Lands.

"Legolas? Master Turlond – he is so unlike any of your kindred I have met so far… but he reminds me of someone."

Legolas smiled. "Yes, Gimli. And I hope we shall see him again soon."

Then they fell silent. They had left the piers and the crowds behind, and for the first time had an unencumbered view of the city of Alqualondë.

Spread out before them like a living thing, the city was built above and around countless canals which created a labyrinth of waterways, some wide enough to let smallboats pass through, others so narrow that a child could easily skip across. Organic shapes rose above these canals, buildings two or three stories high, all connected with each other on various levels by a criss-crossing network of slender bridges. The walls of these houses were made of polished white marble; beautifully shaped seashells framed windows and doors, and there was a constant chiming in the air as a light breeze moved strings of small pearls that were dangling from ledges and windowsills. To the travellers from Middle-earth, these buildings were reminiscent of the Elven dwellings of Rivendell in their ornamental beauty; but where the halls and chambers of Imladris had been made in the likeness of bowers, trees and leaves, the white houses of Alqualondë echoed the waves of the sea rolling in to the shore, and the delicate bridges were like the foam on their crests.

"By Dúrin's beard, here is a work of masonry to warm any dwarf's heart," Gimli whispered, awe in his voice, as they followed their guide into the city on the broad white path. Neither Legolas nor Fingalas replied, for they, too, were captivated by the beauty of the buildings rising to the left and right. But Turlond turned with a quiet laugh.

"I was told of your love for stone, Master Gimli. I hope you will find your accommodation here in Alqualondë to your liking; if not, well, there are still the Pelóri Mountains. I should think there is enough raw material for a skilled dwarf such as your good self to make a comfortable home."

Gimli stopped and stared at the smiling Elf for a moment. Then he broke into a bellowing laugh. "I thank you, my Lord Turlond! I thank you for your warm welcome, and for showing me that here, too, are some of your fair kindred who pair wisdom and beauty with a good dose of humour!"

The dwarf's loud laughter caused curious faces to appear in windows and doorways. On a bridge straight ahead, a boy and a girl peered over a delicate railing. When they realized they'd been discovered, the girl quickly ducked to hide behind the slightly bigger boy. Gimli patted his hands along his chest and sides, as if looking for something; then he seemed to remember. Digging into the pocket of his jerkin, he brought out a tiny glittering object. He turned to Legolas and held out the silver chip.

"Do you think your winged friend would run an errand for me, Master Elf?"

With a smile, Legolas took the piece of mithril from Gimli's hand and offered it to the seagull, which was still perched on his shoulder. The bird regarded the shimmering object for a moment; then it carefully took it in his beak, and flew upwards, settling on the bridge's railing. The boy seemed completely unafraid of the big bird and held out his hand; but the seagull shook its head and hopped away, only to hop closer again, stretching out its head towards the little girl who was peeking out from behind the boy's back. Nudged on by the boy, she timidly held out her hand. The seagull dropped the piece of mithril into the little palm, and with a cry that sounded like laughter swung itself up into the air, rising higher and higher.

The little Elven girl stared at her hand. Then she looked down at the travellers, and a shy smile spread across her face. She raised her free hand and gave a tiny wave; then suddenly, she turned and ran off the bridge. The boy followed her and the sound of her delighted laughter.

Fingalas turned to the dwarf. "That was very generous of you, friend Gimli. That little chip of mithril is even more precious here than in Middle-earth." Gimli shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure, Master Fingalas. Mithril is precious, yes; but so are children."

The three tall Elves stood silent for a moment, looking down at the short figure. Then Turlond chuckled.

"I am beginning to understand the Lady Galadriel. But come, my friends, let us continue on our way."

It seemed that the road they walked on twisted and turned countless times, and Gimli soon lost any sense of direction. His steps were getting slower, for much as he appreciated feeling good stone under his feet, the long journey had left him immensely weary. In addition to this, the unmistakable – albeit polite – curiosity on the faces of the many Elves they passed on their way made him feel increasingly uncomfortable. So it was much to his relief when Turlond finally halted in front of a mansion of breathtaking beauty.

Taller than the surrounding buildings, it rose high into the cloudless sky;and unlike the dwellings they had passed on their way, it was not made of marble but entirely of mother-of-pearl. The pure, almost transparent substance gave it an infinitely fragile appearance. And yet, as if some kind of magic had been woven into the walls by its architects in ancient times, there could be no doubt that thismiracle of intricate carvings and patterns was as strong as any fortress built of solid rock.

Joy and pride shone in Turlond's eyes. "Behold the Hall of Pearls, the great palace of Alqualondë! Here Olwë, lord of the Teleri, resides." Then, seeing the awe in the faces of his two Elven guests, he smiled reassuringly. "Do not fear. You will find that the Lord Olwë bears only goodwill towards all that have come hither across the seas of Middle-earth and Belegaer, for he still remembers with both love and sadness the shores of the Outer Lands, as does his granddaughter, the Lady Galadriel."

With these words, the harbourmaster turned and led the way up the iridescent steps. Passing through a wide archway, Legolas, Fingalas and Gimli entered the Hall of Pearls and followed their guide down a long, wide corridor. Numerous torches and other lamps were mounted on the walls, as there were no windows in the passageway itself; but doors on both sides of the corridor opened onto halls and chambers of various sizes, admitting sufficient daylight. The floor, too, was made of pure mother-of-pearl, and much as the dwarf tried to step lightly, he had the feeling that surely the entire building must tremble under his loud boots.

On and on Turlond led his guests. At the end of the hallway, a wide spiral staircase led to a large hall on an upper level; this level was even lighter than the previous one, for scattered around the main hall there were many balconies and graciously shaped inner courtyards, opening up to the sky. Elves were busy tending little gardens in these courtyards, singing songs and smiling at the passers-by. They all seemed to know who the travellers were, and some spoke polite-sounding greetings in a melodious language unfamiliar to Gimli's ears. As they passed into yet another hallway, Legolas suddenly stopped and turned back, his eyes following a group of Elves heading towards a narrow staircase that was leading downwards.

"What is it, brother?" Fingalas asked.

Legolas cast another look in the direction of the staircase, where the last of the Elves was just disappearing from sight; then he shook his head. "Nothing. I thought… no, it was nothing."

Fingalas and Gimli exchanged a curious look, but at that moment, Turlond turned and beckoned to them. "The lords and the lady await you." He pushed open a wide double door beset with myriads of tiny pearls and gems, and led the way into a vast hall. High rose the ceiling, and there was space for thirty people to walk abreast. Tall windows on either side filled the hall with gentle light, filtered through screens of gauze material thin as a child's breath. At the far end of the hall, perhaps fifty paces away or more, there was a raised dais with a tall throne made of the same material as the shimmering walls; upon it sat a dark-haired Elf in silver robes. Gathered near him, on both sides of the steps leading up to the dais, was a group of seven Elves, or so it seemed from the distance.

Fingalas cast an insecure look at Legolas, whose expression mirrored the mix of awe and excitement on his brother's face. Turlond smiled and lightly rested a hand on Gimli's shoulder.

"Come, Master Dwarf." Steering Gimli ever so gently, he started walking towards the waiting group. Legolas and Fingalas quickly fell in step behind them. As they neared the dais, the power that radiated from the gracious Elf on the throne became more and more palpable; yet Gimli could read only benevolence, and to his surprise, even curiosity in the ageless face.

When they were but ten steps away from the dais, the friends halted. One of the Elves assembled on the stairs came down towards them and raised her hand to her heart in greeting, her eyes shining. When she spoke, her melodious voice was like a caress.

"Well met, my friends. My heart rejoices to see you again."

(1) Adar ista o hadhod? – Hon ista. Does father know about the dwarf? – He knows.

(2) Dartho wait!

(3) hadhodhrim dwarves

(4) ernil prince


	3. III O Eledhrim a Hadhodrim

**III O Eledhrim a Hadhodrim (1)**

Legolas bowed his head and lowered himself to one kneein a gesture of respect. Fingalas and Gimli quickly followed his example. After a brief moment of silence, they rose again, facing those who stood to welcome them.

The Lady Galadriel was even more luminous in her beauty than Legolas and Gimli had beheld her in Lothlórien more than a human age ago. Her flowing white gown was adorned only by a few silver-shimmering stars wrought into the hem of her sleeves and the neckline, and upon her long golden hair there was a wreath of small white flowers. As she stood there, welcoming the travellers, it seemed that the cares and sorrow of an entire world had fallen from her slender shoulders. And yet, even her radiant smile could not altogether hide the sadness deep down in her clear eyes, a sadness that spoke of loss and grieving for places and people once cherished.

Behind her, up on the steps, stood the Lord Celeborn, like his lady unchanged in appearance by the years but for a trace of sorrow in the ageless, wise face framed by silver hair. Next to him, robed all in white, there was a tall old man with a long white beard, leaning on a staff made of polished white wood. Piercing blue eyes flashed from underneath bushy eyebrows; but these eyes were twinkling with humour, very much like those of Turlond the harbourmaster who had gone to stand next to him. Up another step behind these two, but in respectful distance to the Lord Olwë on his throne, stood an Elf of lordly demeanour. His long hair was the colour of gold streaked with silver, and his proud stance indicated a high rank. Yet his mien was not entirely welcoming, and the expression on his stern face darkened almost imperceptibly when his eyes met those of the dwarf.

Gimli, however, paid no heed to this thinly veiled disapproval. His gaze turned towards the three remaining Elves, and his heart grew heavy.

Tall and erect as in the days when he was Lord of Imladris, Elrond stood. On either side of him, two dark-haired Elves, so alike each other that it was impossible to tell which was which, acknowledged the travellers in a silent greeting. Handsome and youthful were their faces, but their grey eyes spoke of deep sorrow. Yet the twins' sadness paled beside the grief that was etched into their father's noble features. Lines that had not been drawn by age framed his eyes and lips, and his expression was that of someone who had lost what was most precious in his life.

Legolas recalled how, after the burial of King Théoden, he had seen the Lord Elrond coming down from the hills outside Edoras, where he had taken leave of his only daughter. The pain in Elrond's eyes had shown only too clearly how hard it had been for him that Arwen had chosen the short life of a mortal, putting her love for Aragorn, the King Elessar, above that for her father, though the choice had cost her more dearly than any words or song could ever express. Legolas saw the same pain again now in the Elven lord's face, but it was deepened by the knowledge that Arwen's doom had been fulfilled. The memory of a bitter moment came to Legolas, a memory of a grey autumn eve not long ago, when he had watched the Evenstar turn awayand disappear into the shadow of deserted Lothlórien; and his thoughts turned to the gem that he carried hidden inside his tunic.

Now was not the time. There would be a quieter moment, later.

The Lady Galadriel spoke, repeating her words of greeting. "Welcome, dearest friends. This is a glad day for all of us, even though it be tinged with bittersweet memories." For a brief moment, her glance rested on Elrond, and her eyes spoke of deep compassion and shared grief. Then she turned to Gimli. Her smile was an echo of evergreen grass and flowers, golden elanor and white niphredil, growing on the hill of Celin Amroth.

To you most of all, Lord of Aglarond, I say well met. I honour your presence here in the Blessed Realm, and your courage for making this journey which none of your race has made before, or will ever make after you." And with those words, the tall, beautiful Elf lady stooped and knelt before the bent figure of the dwarf, taking his hand and touching her white forehead to the brown, gnarled knuckles.

There was an audible gasp, but it did not come from the dwarf. Gimli stared at the golden head bowed before him, stunned, at a loss for words; and when he did speak, his voice nearly failed him. "My lady, please… no. I do not deserve such honour."

Galadriel looked up, and Gimli could not tell whether he was blinded by the brilliance of her gaze or by his own tears. "Yes, Gimli son of Glóin. You do." The lady rose to her feet again. "You do, for your part in bringing down the Dark Lord, liberating from a great evil your world, which was then mine, too. You do, because with your arrival here, all the free peoples of Middle-earth have sent a representative to the Undying Lands. Eärendil came to these shores long ago, for the Men; the three Ring-bearers came, for the hobbits. And now you have come to stay here, sealing for ever the friendship between the Eldar and the Khazâd." (2)

There was a long silence in the great hall, interrupted only by the gentle sound of a carillon ringing in the distance. The dwarf had cast down his eyes and was fighting to regain his composure. Legolas put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. Finally, Gimli drew himself up and heaved a deep breath.

"My lady, I am but a clumsy old dwarf and lack the skill to express my feelings, which indeed cannot be put into words. I thank you a hundred times for your grace and kindness. Now that what I saw in your mirror has come true, I can truly say that I have achieved everything my heart has ever desired." Gimli's voice broke, and he could not continue. Legolas's hand slipped from his shoulder, and the Elf stared at the dwarf, a look of utter surprise on his face.

Galadriel's smile deepened. "Be at peace then, dear friend." Then she turned Legolas. "Do not feel slighted, Legolas Thranduilion. I asked Gimli not to share the prophecy with anyone, not even with you, for in those dark days much was still hidden from me; I could not tell where your roads would take you, and indeed which would be your friend's decision if and when the time came."

Legolas's glance went from Gimli back to Galadriel, and after a briefhesitation he inclined his head. When he looked up again, it was as if the sun had chased away a cloud of distress from his fair face.

"I bow to the superior wisdom of the lady of the Galadhrim. I know well the love my friend bears for you, and I will not compete for it." His eyes strayed to meet those of the tall, stern Elf in the background, and held them for a moment, before he continued speaking to the lady. "My deepest thanks, híril nîn (3), for this welcome, and for opening my eyes to the value of true friendship."

"You had the courage to look past ancient prejudices, Legolas, and you have been richly rewarded." Galadriel's gaze came to rest upon Fingalas. "I know that you have shared your experiences, and I see that your openness bears fruit. Be welcome, Fingalas Thranduilion." Fingalas bowed his head and put his hand to his heart. For once, there was no trace of mischief in his face when he raised his eyes again, but only awe.

"Hannon le, hír nîn Often my brother and Master Gimli have spoken of your beauty and your wisdom, but their words fell far short from the mark. I am honoured to be included in your welcome."

The lady smiled and stepped aside, looking up towards the Lord Olwë, who had risen from his throne. The ancient power that emanated from the lord of the Teleri was most striking, and even though his regard was benign, he commanded respect with just the slightest look or gesture. He inclined his head in a gracious gesture and addressed the travellers in a deep, melodious voice. To their surprise, he spoke in the Westron speech, although the words seemed unfamiliar to his tongue.

"Let me add my greetings to those of my grand-daughter Galadriel. Welcome to you, sons of Thranduil, last of our kindred to reach these shores. Although it is a sad thought that the time of the Eldar on Middle-earth has now truly come to an end, we can take consolation in the knowledge that the servant of Morgoth has been vanquished, never to return." The lord of the Teleri looked across to Elrond and his sons, and his face grew soft with compassion. "Tell me, Legolas Greenleaf, can we put trust in the wisdom of the Apanónar?" (4)

Legolas held the probing gaze of the dark blue eyes without faltering, and his voice was firm when he answered. "Tancavë, hérnya. (5) The new king of Gondor has the grace and knowledge of his ancestors, both Elves and Men. There is peace in his realm, and friendship with the neighbouring lords." He shifted his gaze, and though still in reply to Lord Olwë's question, his words were now directed at Elrond. "I am sure that King Eldarion will continue his father's wise reign, and pass on the legacy to his sons, and his sons' sons, ensuring peace in Middle-earth for many ages to come."

Lord Olwë nodded thoughtfully. "May it come to pass as you foresee it. Whatever ill the peoples of the Outer Lands will face in times to come, it will be of their own making; let us hope that therefore they will find the means and strength to conquer it." With that, he released Legolas from his intent look and turned to Gimli.

"The Lady Galadriel has told me many things about you and your people, Lord of Aglarond. Whatever doubts I may have had upon first hearing her request to obtain permission from the Valar for your journey, they have been silenced by the valour I see in your eyes, and the love I perceive in your heart. In the name of Aulë, may you be at home here in Aman, Master Dwarf. "

Gimli bowed deeply, and his voice was gruff when he answered. "My humblest thanks, my lord. Forgive me if I do not find the words befitting such a generous reception." The lord of the Teleri smiled, and resumed his seat on the throne, nodding to Lord Elrond who now stepped forward.

"Mae govannen, mellyn nîn. We meet again at last. Welcome to you, too, Fingalas Thranduilion." Elrond's voice was firm, betraying no emotion. "You must be tired from the long journey. There will be time to speak, and to remember, when you have rested."

Legolas put his hand to his heart and felt on his skin the cool touch of the jewel he carried inside his tunic. "My lord, as you wish. I cannot speak for my companions, but I need no rest, for walking upon the soil of Aman is like waking up from a long sleep and seeing the dawn of a new life." He hesitated, not quite certain how much he should say in the presence of so many spectators. But the ache in Elrond's eyes commanded him to speak. "I carry a message that has been both a burden to my heart and an honour to bear, and I will gladly share this with you in private whenever you wish."

"I do not deny that I much desire to learn aught you can tell me about my daughter, and my grandchildren whom I never beheld. If you are indeed not too weary, let us retire to my quarters, while your companions may rest in the chambers that have been made ready for them, if they wish." With a slight effort, Lord Elrond took his gaze from Legolas and turned towards the tall Elf behind him. "Forgive me, Thranduil. It is not right that I should keep you from welcoming your sons any longer."

The stern-faced Elf gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and came down the steps to face Legolas and Fingalas. For a moment, they regarded each other in silence. Then Thranduil, once king of the Elves of Eryn Lasgalen in Middle-earth, spoke.

"It has been a long wait," he said. "I am glad you are here at last, ionnath nîn." (6)

Legolas smiled. "So am I, Adar."

He reached out and put a hand on his father's shoulder. Thranduil hesitated for a brief moment, clearly not used to demonstrations of affection in public; but then a smile broke through the grim expression on his face, softening the finely chiselled features and bringing out an extraordinary resemblance between father and sons. He put both his hands on Legolas's shoulders and clasped them tightly. Then he turned to his other son and repeated the gesture. Fingalas grasped his father's arms and held them.

"We have come home, Adar. And we brought a dear friend."

"So I see." Thranduil turned to the dwarf, and though his voice was polite, it had lost the warmth it had displayed brieflytowards the Elven brothers. "Welcome, Lord Gimli." He paused, and it was obvious that his words cost him some effort. "It seems I still have some things to learn about Aulë's children, things which my sons already know, showing greater wisdom perhaps than I possess. May your arrival here in Aman be a new start for you and I, too."

Gimli crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked up at the tall Elf. His expression was inscrutable. "My Lord Thranduil, I appreciate your open and gracious words. I trust that you will find, faster than your stubborn son here, that the dwarves have more to offer than trade with gold and gems, and a stiff neck for Elves to complain about."

Thranduil stared at the short figure, taken aback. Then, ever so slowly, his lips started twitching upwards, and he inclined his head slightly. "I take it that that was my first lesson. I thank you, Master Dwarf."

Gimli acknowledged this with a nod. Legolas exchanged a glance with Fingalas, and then turned to his father again. "Hannon le, Adar." His eyes were full of relief, and gratitude.

"Now that we have decided that it is always possible to make new friends, how about greeting very old ones?" Everybody turned around to the white-robed, white-bearded figure who had spoken these words. A broad smile gave his lined, ancient face a youthful look, and the old wizard he had once been was brought back. Gimli was the first to answer. "Gandalf!" The old man raised an eyebrow. "Gandalf? Hmmm… there is only one still here who calls me by that name. I shall have to get used to hearing it more often again." He glanced around at the company, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I say, we have kept these poor travellers standing around for long enough. With your permission, my lords and lady, I would like to offer to be their guide and accompany them to their quarters so they can rest, and I can listen to their stories sitting down and sharing a pipe with my old friend Gimli here."

There was a low sigh from the Lord Olwë on his throne. "So be it, Mithrandir. If you feel the need to poison the air with that strange habit you brought with you from Middle-earth, do so, but not in my presence, or indeed in my reception hall." He rose from his throne. "Go then, and rest, my friends. We shall meet again at the banquet tonight."

The lord of the Teleri nodded to the small group and left them, followed by Turlond who muttered something about finding his unfaithful bird again. Fingalas turned to Gandalf. "Like my brother, I do not feel the need for rest. I should like to go back to our ship to see that our crew is well taken care of."

Thranduil caught the look that Legolas cast at Elrond and the twins, who, like the Lord Celeborn, had kept silent in the background throughout the entire time. "I will accompany you, Fingalas."

So Thranduil and Fingalas left, and Gandalf with Gimli. Celeborn spoke at last. "Forgive me, Legolas, for not having added my words of welcome before. It was not for me to speak, nor is it now; I shall leave you with those who have a right to listen to the tidings you bring." He turned to go, and the Lady Galadriel was about to follow, when Elrond put a hand on her slender white arm. Finally betraying some emotion, he said in a quiet whisper, "I would ask for your company, Altariël, for you loved my daughter as if she was your own child." (7)

Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged a look. "Very well, kinsman." Celeborn bowed, and left them. Elrond turned to Legolas.

"Let us go."

(1) O Eledhrim a Hadhodrim Of Elves and Dwarves (Sindarin)

(2) khazâd dwarves (Khuzdul)

(3) híril nîn my lady (Sindarin)

(4) apanónar Afterborn (Quenya)

(5) tancavë, hérnya yes, my lord (Quenya)

(6) ionnath nîn my sons (Sindarin)

(7) Altariël Galadriel's name in Quenya


	4. IV The Gift of Mortality

**IV - The Gift of Mortality**

Legolas followed Elrond, Galadriel and the twins from the great hall. He paid no heed to the winding passageways and the spiralling staircases that led them up to the next level, for his thoughts were turned to the gem he carried, and he felt its weight growing in his mind. It was a sorrowful burden; and yet he felt strangely calm, as if he was nearing the end of another journey, a journey of great importance, although he himself had only joined it at the very end.

Finally they halted outside a richly ornamented door, and Lord Elrond bade them enter into a spacious, exquisitely furnished chamber. Wide windows in the shape of seashells admitted the warm light of a late afternoon sun. Alongside two of the interior walls stretched tall bookshelves, laden with countless volumes of all sizes. More books were scattered about the wide, delicately wrought table in a corner near the windows. Low settees and comfortable-looking armchairs beckoned invitingly. However, no one took a seat. There was a long moment of silence as Elrond walked over to stand by the windows, staring out across the white city.

Finally, the Elven lord turned back into the room to face his guests. His expression was one of calm composure, but there was a slight tremor in his voice when he spoke.

"I bid you welcome once more, Legolas Greenleaf. It was with both joy and sorrow that I hurried to Alqualondë upon hearing of your impending arrival, for any tidings you bring from Endor (1) will convey memories of happiness and grief for me." He hesitated for a moment, his eyes clouding over. "Forgive me for being so direct. Is there aught you can tell me that would soothe a grieving father?"

Legolas almost quailed under the imploring gaze of the mighty Elven lord. What could he say but that would bring further pain to Elrond? Yet he had known this moment would come when he had offered to escort the Lady Arwen on her last journey, a task he had undertaken because of the love he bore both her and her king. Now, as a last service to these two so dear to his heart, he had to offer what consolation he could to her father and brothers.

"My lord, I cannot take from you the pain that is in the knowledge of the fate the Lady Arwen has chosen. It is fulfilled now. King Elessar has departed. I took leave of the Queen at the edge of Lórien in the fading light of an autumn evening last year, and it was as if the starlight had disappeared for ever underneath the leafless trees." Legolas nearly faltered at the memory of the cloaked figure melting into the shadows among the naked mallorn trees. But then another, much older memory came to him, a memory of laughing voices and sparkling eyes, of little hands reaching out, dark-haired children clamouring to be picked up by their father's old friend, begging him to take them on a ride in the wide fields outside another White City. Little hands that now were strong enough to wield a sword, yet gentle, with a healer's power; and eyes that were wise enough to rule, and to inspire respect and love. This memory gave him the strength to continue.

"Like the fading of all starlight, it seemed to me. But I take consolation in the knowledge that in her children, Arwen Undômiel lives on. King Eldarion is both wise and compassionate, and he dotes on his twin sisters. Indeed, Elladwen and Elrahel are of a beauty that has not walked Middle-earth since the days of Lúthien Tinuviël, save in the likeness of their mother. But for seeing their strength, and love for each other and their people, I would have left the Hither Shores with a heavy heart."

Elrond passed his hands over his eyes and reached out as if to seek for support. In a swift movement, the Lady Galadriel was at his side, taking his arm. Elladan and Elrohir stood motionless, but their eyes spoke of the conflicting emotions that this account had triggered. It occurred to Legolas that perhaps they had not known that their sister had given birth to daughters who, like they themselves, were so alike each other in appearance and conduct that only those who knew them long could tell them apart.

He hesitated for a moment, not sure how to continue with this, the most difficult part of his tale. "My lord, Lady Arwen stood by her choice, although it was grievous beyond bearing in the end. Her last words were for you." He reached inside the folds of his tunic and drew forth the jewel he had been carrying with him since that last parting. "She bade me give you this, saying that this way, the Evenstar would remain forever in the Undying Lands."

With these words, Legolas extended his open palm, in which lay the beautifully wrought pendant on its silver chain. It caught a ray of sunlight, and a bright flash of silver-green sparked off the jewel, almost blinding those looking upon it. Elrond reached out, and with trembling fingers took the Evenstar from Legolas's hand.

"There is still life in the Evenstar," he whispered, tears shining in his eyes. The Lady Galadriel touched the glittering jewel with her fingertips and smiled, a deeply sad smile.

"There will always be. The love she had for those closest to her heart will endure."

These words offered comfort, yet it was not the Lady Galadriel who spoke them.

It was a new voice, a voice so melodious it filled the hearts of everyone in the room with song, though the song was sad beyond measure. As one, the Elves sank to their knees and bowed their heads, for they knew they were in the presence of one of the Ainur.

"Do not grieve for your daughter, Elrond, son of Eärendil," the gentle voice continued. "It was her appointed doom to be the Evenstar of her people. With her choice, she ensured that there will be some among the Apanónar who treasure the lore of the Firstborn, and who are blessed with your kindred's love for the earth and respect for all living things. And if you take no consolation in this knowledge, perhaps you will find it in this: Although for a short while Arwen Undômiel will still wander among the shadows of Lórien, she will eventually pass through the Halls of Mandos where Elessar awaits her."

At this, Elrond lifted his head. In the middle of the room stood a small, slender figure robed in a dark grey cloak. It was as if a veil concealed her features, yet she wore none; it was more a shifting of light and shadow that kept her face hidden from view. Despite her lithe stature, the power that emanated from this Vala was such that Elrond, mighty among Elves on Middle-earth and in Aman, could not bear to look at her for long, and he lowered his gaze again.

"Yes, like Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinuviël, they will be together again," the song in their ears and their hearts went on. "And together, they will depart from my brother's Halls to embark on that journey of which the Eldalië know nothing, and will not learn until the day when Ilúvatar uncovers the entirety of his design to the Valar and all his Children. Such is the gift of mortality that he offered to your daughter." The grey figure stooped and placed her palm against Elrond's forehead. "She will find her peace. May you find yours."

For a long time, there was silence in the light-flooded room. Legolas knew that the Vala had left them, as silently as she had appeared; yet he dared not lift his gaze again. His heart was in turmoil, for he had never before been in the presence of such an ancient and powerful being, save in that dark hour in Moria when he and his companions had faced the Balrog. But where the terror of shadow and flame had filled his soul with dread, this soft and sorrowful song had left his heart weeping and laughing at the same time.

A light hand touched his shoulder. Legolas looked up to see Elladan standing next to him, smiling through unshed tears. The other three Elves were sitting together on one of the low settees, heads bowed, hands entwined. The Evenstar hung on its chain around Lord Elrond's neck.

Legolas quickly got his feet. He felt out of place, felt he didn't belong here in this private moment of grief, and was about to turn to leave quietly. At that moment, Elrond lifted his head, and met his gaze. The Elven lord's eyes, although still full of pain, showed acceptance, and a shimmer of hope. A slow smile lit his face as he got up and took a few steps towards Legolas.

"Hannon le, Legolas Thranduilion. You shall always have my deepest gratitude for making the last journey with the Evenstar." He touched the glittering jewel on his chest, and inclined his head.

Legolas was at a loss for words upon seeing the former Lord of Imladris bow to him. Silently, he returned the courteous gesture. When he lifted his head again, his eyes met those of the Lady Galadriel who had come to stand beside Lord Elrond; and he knew there was no need for words, for Galadriel's smile told him she could see into his soul, and read all that was there.

"Go and rest, Legolas of the Nine Companions."

Her soft voice triggered a fatigue that he had not felt before, and he acquiesced gratefully, taking his leave of the lords and lady. When he reached the door, Elladan, who accompanied him, put a hand on his arm.

"Hannon le, mellon nîn. I know you loved our sister and her husband dearly." The pain of the memory showed clearly on the handsome face, so like that of the Lady Arwen. "When the time is right, I would have you tell us more about her, and our gwador (2). We miss Estel as much as we grieve for our sister."

Legolas nodded mutely, and slipped out the door. It closed noiselessly behind him, and he stood as one rooted the ground. A thousand thoughts swirled around in his head, yet he could not hold on to a single one. He knew not how long he had been standing there when a voice woke him from his trance-like state.

"Legolas?"

Legolas looked up in confusion. A tall, white-robed figure came into focus, a benign face framed by a mane of white hair and beard. Their eyes met, and after a long moment Gandalf nodded.

"So you have heard Nienna's song. I will ask no more." The Istari put a friendly hand on the bewildered Elf's shoulder. "Come. I will show you the way to your chambers. You should follow our short friend's example and rest before the banquet tonight." When Legolas did not respond but silently fell into step with him, Gandalf eyed him from the side and chuckled. "You would have been the first one not to be overwhelmed by this experience."

The old wizard led the Elf through a maze of brightly lit corridors, up even more stairs and down again, past countless courtyards and chambers, until Legolas would surely have lost any sense of where they were, even if he had paid any attention. But he just followed Gandalf, withdrawn into himself entirely, for the encounter with the Vala had shaken him to the core; and the wizard did not speak, respecting the Elf's silence.

At last, Gandalf halted at the end of a narrow passageway and opened a door to the left, holding it open and motioning for Legolas to enter. With a visible effort, Legolas returned from the faraway realms his mind had been wandering.

"Mithrandir? I… where is Gimli?"

Gandalf smiled and pointed back the way they had come. "His chambers are on the other side of that courtyard. You should be able to hear his snoring." Indeed, although it would have been inaudible for a human ear, Legolas could easily pick out the familiar, if somewhat exasperating sound. His own smile, however, was tinged with sadness.

"He is not the same he used to be, Mithrandir. He is old."

The wizard looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment before he replied.

"Yes, Legolas. I have noticed it. Such is the fate of his race, even if here it may be slowed a little."

The Elf bowed his head. "I know," he whispered. Gandalf's eyes filled with compassion. "Do not think of that now, my friend. Rest a while." And with those words, he left.

Legolas stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The room was small but friendly, with two wide windows and a door leading out onto a balcony. A table and a stool stood facing a small bookshelf to the left, and to the right, two steps led up to a raised dais, in the middle of which stood a wide bed. Soft cushions and colourful blankets were scattered about the mother-of-pearl frame. Legolas's tired body and mind yearned to follow the invitation to lie down and fall into a dreamless sleep. But he knew he would not find peace. So he walked over to the open windows and, finding the ledge wide enough, made himself comfortable on the windowsill, sitting with his knees drawn up and looking out over the city towards the sea.

As Legolas watched the sky grow gradually darker, his thoughts wandered back to Mithrandir's words. 'Such is the fate of his race.' And his fate seemed to be to watch friends die, he thought, not without a trace of bitterness. He had learnt much about mortality since that day he had set out for Rivendell with news of the escape of the creature Gollum, not knowing then what these tidings meant and how this journey would change him so entirely. He had seen so much grief because of mortality, and yet he was not sure that the immortality granted to his kindred was so desirable. Nienna's song came back into his heart, and he wondered, as so often before, where the Secondborn and all the other races of his old world went after their lives were spent.

He leant his head back against the cool wall and closed his eyes. He was so very tired. Perhaps it would be kinder to rest forever at some point.

(1) Endor Middle-earth

(2) gwador sworn brother


	5. V Of Old Friends and Dancing Stars

V – Of Old Friends and Dancing Stars 

A soft tapping sound slowly trickled into his consciousness. Legolas opened his eyes and realised with a start that he had fallen asleep sitting on the windowsill. An hour must have passed, or more; for outside, the dark blue night sky stretched above the city of seashells and pearls, which was shimmering in the light of countless lamps and lanterns. It was as if the stars had descended from the sky to illuminate a beautiful dream.

The gentle knocking at the door, however, was not a dream. Legolas slid down from the windowsill and made his way through the dark room to answer it, feeling slightly disoriented by his unusually deep sleep. When he opened the door, the Elf waiting outside his chamber bowed her head respectfully.

"Forgive me if I have disturbed you," she said in the soft lilt Legolas immediately recognized as that of his ancestral home, Eryn Lasgalen.

"Merilinwen?" he asked, hesitatingly.

The Elf lifted her head. A shy smile played around her lips as she replied, "Indeed, hîr nîn. I have been sent to lead you to the festival hall, if you are ready."

Legolas took in her festive gown of deep burgundy and the delicate gold circlet that sat upon her dark chestnut-coloured hair. Then he looked down at his slightly worn travel clothes, and grimaced. "I'm not sure. Am I?"

She laughed, a gentle, innocent laugh. "I believe if you look on your bed, you will find… appropriate clothing." Pointing to the little courtyard at the entrance of the passageway, she added, "I shall wait for you over there."

Legolas watched her walk down the corridor, wondering if he was quite awake yet. Then he turned back inside, taking one of the candles from the shelf outside his door to kindle the lamps mounted on the walls in his room. On his bedstead, he found a pair of soft breeches and a wide-sleeved tunic wrought of fine silk, a shimmering pattern of silver and green colours. Someone must have brought them here while he was asleep – someone very quiet, indeed, for he could not understand how he could have not woken at the sound of anybody entering his room.

Quickly, Legolas exchanged his travel outfit for the precious garments, and left the chamber to meet his guide who was awaiting him, sitting on a bench in the green courtyard. She rose to her feet, and he took her hands in both his, holding them to his chest for a moment.

"Forgive me for not being more welcoming earlier, Merilinwen," he said warmly, letting go of her hands. "It has been a day full of unusual encounters for me, and I did not expect another one in the shape of a dear childhood friend."

Merilinwen returned his smile. "Then let us go. We are late. Mithrandir was already here half an hour ago to call upon your brother and the lord of the nogothrim." She made to leave.

"Hadhodrim."

Something in the tone of Legolas's voice made the other Elf stop and turn back to him, a puzzled look on her face. A shadow seemed to have settled on Legolas's brow. "I would appreciate it if you said 'hadhodrim' rather than 'nogothrim'," he said. "It shows more respect."

Merilinwen blushed, and lowered her head. "I… forgive me, hîr nîn. It was never my intention to say anything disrespectful about Lord Gimli."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence. But then Legolas's expression softened. "I am sorry. I am not quite myself today. I know you didn't mean any insult. Perhaps I have grown too sensitive on his behalf." He reached out to Merilinwen and lightly touched her arm. "Come. Do not let my moods spoil this evening. If you don't show me the way, I shall certainly miss the banquet, for I have no idea how I got here, or where to go."

At this, Merilinwen looked up, grateful to hear humour return to Legolas's voice. "Very well, hîr nîn. I shall endeavour to use my tongue more wisely in future," she said earnestly.

Biting back a smile, Legolas followed his guide down a narrow staircase and along brightly lit corridors, this time paying more attention to the turns and twists of their passage so he would remember his own way back.

"It was you I saw on my way to the great hall earlier, wasn't it?"

Merilinwen nodded as she led the way down yet another spiral staircase. "Yes. But I did not think it befitted me to greet you then, as you were in the company of such great lords." She looked up at Legolas, and blushed upon seeing his amused expression. "I did not mean to imply – I did not mean to say that you are not… ai, now I have done it again!" She bit her lip and hung her head. Legolas's merry laughter echoed from the shimmering walls.

"You were quite right," he chuckled. "I do not consider myself equal to the likes of Mithrandir and Lord Turlond." He lifted a hand to stop her protest. "Sidh, mellon nîn (1). I would rather have you tell me how our people fare in Aman. Is Thendir here, too?"

Merilinwen brightened visibly upon hearing this name. "Not here in Alqualondë. He is at our home in Teldamar, which we call Dôr Vedui (2)." A glance at Legolas showed her that these names were foreign to him; so she told him about the newly built forest city, halfway between Alqualondë and Tirion, where the larger part of the Elves from Middle-earth had made their home, although those most enamoured by the sea had settled in Alqualondë.

"Thendir was out hunting, up towards the northern reaches of the Pelóri, when the news of your ship passing by Tol Eressëa reached us," she continued. "I know he will be overjoyed to hear of your arrival. I did not wait for his return but asked permission to accompany the Lady Galadriel, for much as I love the forests, I always cherish coming down to the sea."

The forest and the sea. Legolas smiled. Yes, he understood. He had heard the call of the sea, and had followed it; and he knew that the sea-longing would for ever remain a part of him. Yet he also yearned to walk under trees again, to feel the lush softness of forest moss under his feet and to smell the earthy scent of damp leaves on a cool morning. Soon, he hoped.

"So how fares Thendir?" he asked.

Merilinwen laughed. "He has not changed. He still prefers being out and about on any errand, any excuse. He is rarely home, if he can help it." Legolas replied to this with a chuckle. "I seem to remember that you were just the same. Indeed, most of the time it was hard to tell which of you was worse." Merilinwen's cheeks flushed slightly, and she pretended to adjust the sash around her slim waist. "Oh, that was long ago…" Then she glanced up at Legolas with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. "You will find me much more mellow and responsible now. I teach the children about the songs of the forest and the deer, and I take them to listen to the stories of Master Frodo Ringbearer."

Legolas stopped in his tracks.

"Frodo… Frodo is still alive?" he whispered. His expression was a mixture of incredulity and joy.

Merilinwen turned back to face him, and her eyes grew full of fondness, conveying the affection she obviously felt for the famous hobbit. "Yes, Master Frodo is still with us. He is very old and frail now, one hundred and seventy-four years of age in the reckoning of the periannath (3). But he has lost none of his gentle wisdom and kindness."

Legolas stood very still, ignoring the increasing number of Elves brushing past them on their way to the festival hall. His gaze seemed to be turned inwards, and when he spoke, it was as if to himself.

"That is very good news indeed, after the sorrowful tidings I had to bring." He looked up at Merilinwen, his eyes shining with sudden expectation. "And – Master Samwise?"

But the other Elf shook her head sadly. "Alas, he passed away sixteen years ago. It was very hard for Master Frodo." All mischief had vanished from her face, and her voice carried deep compassion. "Sometimes I think only the prospect of seeing the children makes him resolve to open his eyes again when he goes to sleep in the evening, and it makes my heart weep. I hear him crying, and saying it was an evil fate that prolonged his life so much he had to watch his dearest friend die."

At this, Legolas winced almost imperceptibly. Yet Merilinwen had noticed. "Forgive me, hîr nîn – have I said something wrong?"

Legolas averted his eyes and turned away, as if he couldn't bear to answer her questioning gaze. More and more Elves hurried past them with laughter and excitement on their faces, dressed in festive garb; many among them were those who had arrived with Legolas. However, neither he nor Merilinwen gave any attention to their courteous greetings.

Finally, he turned back to face his companion. His expression was inscrutable. "No, my friend. Your tidings are most welcome." Taking her arm, Legolas began moving down the corridor with the stream of guests towards the beautifully wrought double doors of the great reception hall. "They are welcome, indeed," he continued, in a lighter tone. "But most of all, it is a marvel to me that there are children here. So many beautiful children." He looked down at Merilinwen with a smile. "Have you– ?"

A shout interrupted his question. "Legolas! We have been waiting for you!" Fingalas had appeared in the open doors, beckoning for his brother. "The dwarf's stomach growls so loudly, I think father is beginning to change his mind about becoming friendly with him. Come!"

Legolas couldn't help but laugh, grateful that his brother's sunny spirit managed to lighten his heart, as always. He turned to Merilinwen with a gesture of mock despair. "I apologize for my brother's unseemly behaviour. Will you come and sit with us?" Merilinwen shook her head. "No, my lord. You are a guest of honour at the table of Lord Olwë and Lady Galadriel. I shall take my leave now." "Very well. But I hope to hear more about you and Thendir soon." Legolas returned Merilinwen's parting gesture and watched her disappear down the corridor and through a side door; then he followed Fingalas inside.

The great hall, which had seemed so vast, almost daunting, during his visit earlier in the day, had been transformed. Garlands of flowers interwoven with colourful, paper-thin seashells hung from the walls, and the flickering lights of a thousand candles illuminated the three long tables set out under a canopy in the middle of the hall in the form of a horseshoe. Music filled the hall, and the soft singing of clear voices; on a raised area to the left, Legolas saw minstrels with harps and flutes. The tables were decked out in festive array, laden with bowls of fruit and bread, and platters holding seafoods of all kinds. Crystal chalices sparkled as they were lifted to pour clear, golden liquid into glasses and cups.

Legolas followed Fingalas towards the table in the middle, returning many smiles and greetings on the way. He was glad to see his people mingling happily with the Elves from Alqualondë, and his heart was lifted at the thought of making a new home here, in the true land of his kindred. Upon reaching the central table, they were welcomed again by the Lord Olwë who bade them sit, and partake in the feast. Galadriel was at his side, and Elrond with his sons. Further down the table, there was Gandalf, engaged in animated conversation with Turlond and Gimli; Thranduil, who sat nearby, watched them with a bemused expression.

The food was plentiful and delicious, and soon even Gimli the dwarf admitted defeat when offered more. There was much laughter and merriment in the air; yet Legolas could not quite shake the feeling of sadness that his meeting with Lord Elrond had woken, and so he spoke little, and mostly listened, ignoring Fingalas's jesting remarks about his absent-mindedness, and his father's probing glances.

The feast went on until late in the evening, and many a courteous speech was followed by singing, and more laughter. When finally the great hall started to empty, Gimli left his place at Gandalf's side and found a seat next to Legolas.

"What is the matter with you tonight, my friend?" The dwarf's remark was made in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "This brooding Elf almost seems a stranger to me."

Legolas smiled an apology. "You are right. It seems that I am the one who is overwhelmed by Aman, not you. Is not that strange?" He did not voice his innermost thoughts, for they concerned above all the white-bearded dwarf next to him. But more than a century of friendship had taught Gimli to read Legolas's moods more clearly than many, and he saw that the Elf was holding back something that deeply troubled him. He was just about to speak again when Elrohir appeared at their side.

"Come, my friends, otherwise you will miss Elentári's dance."

They looked up to see that most of the other guests had left the banquet. "Elentári's dance?" the dwarf asked as he followed Legolas's example and got up, somewhat stiffly. "What is that?" The dark-haired Elf smiled. "Come, Master Dwarf. You will see."

Gimli and Legolas followed Elrohir through torch-lit corridors to a great balcony, a platform on the second level of the Hall of Pearls, which by daylight would surely offer a splendid view of all of Alqualondë. Many Elves had assembled on this platform, among them the Lords Olwë, Turlond, and Elrond, and the Lady Galadriel with Gandalf.

All the lights in the city were doused, and it was completely dark except for the stars in the night sky. Far to the north, the seven bright stars that form the crown of the Valacirca stood out in all their brilliance against the blackness of the sky. Speaking very quietly, Elrohir pointed out some other constellations. "Look, Master Gimli, there is Alcarinquë, the Glorious; and Elemmiré, and Telumendil. And there is Menelmacar, the Great Hunter, which you know from the sky above Middle-earth."

Suddenly there was a whisper among the Elves.

A faint flicker of colour showed at the horizon, a streak of light green. It moved closer to shore swiftly, intensifying all the time. A second curtain of light appeared, this one a faint violet, while the first wisp of colour changed into white; then both dissolved. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, as if painted by the careless strokes of an invisible, gigantic brush, bright rays of colour skipped across the sky, composing patterns of incandescent beauty in a phosphorescent glow. The entire sky was ablaze with colour, dancing, weaving a mantle for the night, a cloak of violet, white and brilliant green.

Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder. "Behold the beauty of the Celaid Feredrin," (4) his father's voice said next to him.

"Elentári's dance," (5) Legolas breathed. He looked around, and saw the joy of the heavenly lights mirrored in the fair faces turned upwards to watch the aurora.

"I am home, Adar."

(1) Sidh, mellon nîn Peace, my friend

(2) Teldamar Last Home (Q), Dôr Vedui Last Dwelling Place (S)

(3) periannath hobbits (S)

(4) Celaid Feredrin Northern Lights (S)

(5) Varda Elentári, who the Elves call Elbereth Gilthoniel, wrought the stars to greet the Firstborn when they awoke at the Lake of Cuiviénen.


End file.
